Confusion knots her brow. “What do you mean?”
I hold her gaze. The instinct to interrogate her is strong. But the instinct to protect her is far more powerful.
That cements in my lower stomach. I know this woman is a liar, a thief of identity and more stubborn than any other person I’ve met. But I also know she’s mine, name be damned.
I intentionally soften my voice, which I have only ever used to fight fire with fire. But for her to see me, for her to hear me, she needs to lower her walls and stop viewing me as a threat. Because I know without a doubt, even when I discover who she really is, I won’t hurt her. And that might be my most dangerous undoing yet.
All I know is I won’t let anything or anyone hurt her.
“Sweetheart, I can see the fear in your eyes, and those packed bags tell me you don’t feel safe here anymore.” Her face twists in confusion and reluctance in the way I speak with her. “So any explanation can wait until I get you to where you will feel safe. Will you stop fighting me?”
All the fight seems to bleed from her, but I can tell her clever mind is still working, most likely used to fighting every battle on her own. I slowly lean away from her. She doesn’t make any sudden movement as I reach down and pick up the bags and hand one to her. “I’m taking you home with me. And then you’re going to tell me everything.”
She looks like she wants to fight, her gaze burning, but then I lift my hand to her face, and she flinches, as if waking up for the first time since I’ve stepped in, instead of her mind busily trying to race ten steps ahead. I push back a strand of her loose plum hair. “The only person you’re allowed to fight with is me, and I prefer it in the way of foreplay and in the bedroom. Anyone else who challenges you, I step in instead.”
“I can fight my own battles.” I expected her to say as much, but it lacks her usual fire.
“Yes, you can, except now I’m coming along for the ride.” She seems confused but unable to move. It’s like cornering a wild animal, deciding whether it will give in to trust or bite you instead. “Is there anything else you need before we leave?” I ask.
She looks around the apartment, and I can see the sadness on her face.
“No,” she says softly. “There’s nothing here I need.”
I put my hand on the small of her back and guide her toward the door. The contact is meant to reassure her. Whatever is lurking out there in the dark will have to come through me first, but the way her body is still tense, she’s ready to fight that battle on her own. But at least right now, she’s choosing to lean on me, if only slightly.
We walk quickly toward my car, and the entire time, my rage simmers beneath my skin as the questions burn in my throat.
Who did this to you?
Who has made you so afraid that you’re fleeing your home in the middle of the night?
I plan to find out exactly who, what, or fucking whatever it is that has her so scared.
Out on the street, my eyes sweep left to right to make sure we’re alone.
The night is still. But the street doesn’t feel empty. It feels full of shadows and potential danger.
My instincts and senses on high alert, I open the passenger door to my car, and Leonore slides in. I close it behind her and walk around to the driver’s side, scanning the shadows of the street where someone could be watching us unseen.
But there is no one.
Inside the car, I lock the doors and start the engine while Leonore looks straight ahead, gnawing at her lip.She’s scared.My jaw clenches, frustrated that I can’t immediately take away that expression from ever touching her face.
Pulling away from the curb, I reach over and take her hand. I wait for her to yank her hand out of mine, but she doesn’t.
When we get home, I’m going to find out what the hell is going on, and then I am going to take care of it with as much force and bloodshed as necessary.
I tighten my hand around hers and keep driving.
37
LEONORE
Ifeel numb, but even as I fight the ghosts that have caught up from my past, it’s hard not to appreciate Silas’s home, even though I’ve been here before. We pull off the street and immediately come to a pair of wrought iron gates. They’re at least twelve-feet high and flanked by stone pillars. Except this time it feels different. A man in black steps out of the guard station as we pull in. Silas nods to him, the gate opens, and we drive through. The last time I was here, it was just us. I can’t help but wonder if that was an oddity because he knew I’d hate others being here, or if he made calls well before I even agreed to come with him.
The driveway is lined with ground-level lighting that casts a warm glow across the gravel. We pass a camera mounted to a tree. Then another on a post near a bend in the drive. It feels like I’ve just entered a fortress. I notice all the smaller details now, wondering if even this place, this man, can keep me safe.
The massive stone and timber home waits at the end of the driveway. Silas parks and kills the engine. He climbs out and comes around to my door, opening it to help me out.
